White Paint
by Effervescent Passion
Summary: She loved to paint, everyone knew that. She was quiet, everyone knew that. But, why does a certain captain feel...some sort of affection towards her? HitsugayaxOC. Oneshot.


Okay, so this was hanging around on my computer and I felt like I wanted to get rid of it.

In short, yeah, It's a HitsugayaxOC fic. I used to be really obsessed with Toshiro. He was so kyuuute~:3

I'm gonna shut up and let you read~

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bleach, because if I did, I... wouldn't pair Momo with Toshiro D;

* * *

**White Paint**

_The world you painted was new _  
_ The colors were so alive _  
_ Took a lie and made it true _  
_ A final touch and then right into the painting you dive _

-Painting by Blindside

* * *

She placed a hand on the soft snow. It glistened brightly as her eyes adverted to the small print left on the white fluff. It was strangely cold. The girl, named Kiseki, meaning miracle, closed her soft china blue eyes. She began to think hard, slightly furrowing her brows.

This was the first time she had seen snow in all her life.

Kiseki reached down onto the snow once again, grabbing a fistful of it. She began to draw circles on the powder, as if drawing something on it. Suddenly, she threw the powder onto the ground, almost afraid, and clutched her small hands.

It was cold.

Standing up, she dusted off stray lumps of the white powder of her black shihakushō and blew on her hands. They began to turn purple and blue, red marks also adorning it. Kiseki's body gave a slight shiver as she placed both hands to the side of her body, as if hugging her body.

Even if the snow intrigued the young thirteen year old girl, she had common sense. She knew to stay away from it if it was going to hurt her, or rather in this case, make her catch a terrible cold.

Kiseki placed her feet onto the wooden boards of the tenth division, walking across the hallway as silently as she possibly could. It was already late at night. Kiseki made her lips turn upside down, frowning. She wasn't supposed to be out late. Even though this wasn't her first time staying out late, she knew that she needed to be careful. Most officers were already asleep in their rooms. All lights were off, of course, except one.

The captain's office.

The lights of that room were almost always on. Whenever she walked the central garden to reach her room, she would always notice that one room would always be on. The lights never dimmed, the lights never blacked out. Yellow lights would always pour out of the occupied office.

Kiseki had always thought it was strange. Who could be working so late at night everyday? Was it her captain, the white-haired Hitsugaya Toshiro? Or was it his lieutenant Matsumoto Rangiku? But somehow, the room seemed odd to her today, was it just her, or was the room seemingly more quiet than usual?

Ignoring the thought that crossed her mind, she continued tip-toeing past her captain's room, finally reaching a set of large doors. Her steps became slightly louder, knowing that her steps could not wake any of the sleeping officers that now rested. They were all heavy-sleepers, unlike her. Kiseki had never worried about waking them up, knowing none of them would care. She had grown close the many males and females that she shared a hallway with, despite being visibly younger than them all by many years.

She gave a sigh of relief as she finally reached her door, the thirteenth one down the aisle. The rooms were not in order of what seat you were in, rather, just a random number given to each officer. Even though she had graduated at the top of her class back in the academy, and originally had a high ranking, due to her quiet, and introverted ways, her rank had been brought down quite a bit.

It was simply because she had also been afraid of fighting. It was also because she always blanked out in a real battle.

Now she had a low rank, barely enough to pass as an officer. Nonetheless, she always managed to maintain herself as an officer. She hated going out to battle. Kiseki had always preferred to stay in the comfort of her own room, doing what she loved most:

Painting.

Kiseki shut the door behind her, the sliding sound booming in her ears. She really needed to work on closing the door more silently from now on.

Taking a breath, her eyes began to search for the white cloth she had placed on a stand just a day ago. She smiled; she had found it. Her arms reached out for the white cloth, gently taking it off. Underneath it, laid a canvas as white as the snow she saw earlier, and as empty as fresh snow just being laid onto the ground. She sighed again, glad that the canvas hadn't be ruined…yet.

From her right side, she reached out onto the black nightstand next to her bed to grab a hairtie. She wound it against her long light-pink hair. Each fine strand pulled into a high ponytail that now rested against the top of her head.

Kiseki began to stare at the blank canvas as she stretched her left arm this time to grab a pencil nearby. It was her special pencil as it could write on cloth and be erased. Passing the pencil to her right as they contacted each other, her head began to think of a new painting that she could do. Since it was her first time seeing snow, her thoughts began to curl around the newly grasped idea, thinking it would be good for her. Maybe it would help her remember some things that's been lingering around her head.

Or maybe it could clear her head for awhile.

Slowly, Kiseki placed the pencil down onto the canvas, making a faint line against the special cloth…...

**xxx**

Not too far away, another individual was up this late at night. He rubbed his temples, eyebrows lowering, his hand tensing. His turquoise-aqua eyes glared the sleeping form of an older woman, a jar of sake in one hand, her left leg on the couch, while the other slumped off the couch, her foot on the ground.

His lieutenant had been drinking…again.

Even though it had become a daily routine, the young captain couldn't resist but be angry at her all the time. She had been avoiding her duties too often for his liking. Sometimes he felt like he needed to punish her crudely, but could never have the heart to. She was after all, the only person that understood him one way or another.

All he ever asked off her was to stop slacking off, and work for once in her life. It was a simple task, yet only _she_ could make things difficult. There's the fact that he was there, working so hard late at night, trying to get work done so less work would be piled the next day, yet a certain individual would always end up bailing. She would run halfway across Seireitei, jumping like a madwoman, escaping from her short captain.

You know what happens next?

She runs off…with Hisagi and Kira no less, drinks until she's left drunk senseless, passes out when entering the door of the tenth division, body laid out in an awkward position.

He tapped his feet in a rhythmic beat, awaiting to see how long it would take for his lieutenant to come to.

1 minute passed…

2 minutes passed…

5 minutes passed…

10 minutes passed…

Nothing happened. Matsumoto's asleep body didn't move. Instead of her body moving, bits of water came dripping out of her mouth. She was…drooling.

"How unwomanly…" Hitsugaya growled, furrowing his brows. Finally, her body turned to the side, a sleepy grin appearing on her face.

"Hehehe… come on Captainnnnnn! Have a…drrrriinnk…." She slurred as the empty bottle of sake waved around in the air. Hitsugaya blinked his eyes over and over, staring at her. He heaved a deep sigh.

It was impossible to work with Matsumoto spilling random comments from that loud mouth of hers. Looks like he was going to end up with another sleepless night…again.

"Hey…hey Captainnnn! Whyy…..no-" She complained squeakily as her body suddenly landed on the floor with a heavy thud. She groaned loudly as the bottle in her hand crashed against the hard floor, the shards and pieces spilling apart. The sound was slightly ear-piercing, causing the small captain to wince at the sound.

"…Matsumoto…" Hitsugaya grunted. He became slightly tenser, becoming angrier and angrier by the second. "Ma….MATSUMOTO!" He yelled this time, pissed off.

Matsumoto moved her body upwards, sitting on the ground groggily, eyes flickering open to find the glare of a young thirteen year old boy, in looks, fold his arms. He had a pissed off look on his face, glaring at the older woman. The woman rolled her eyes as she understood what had happened.

She passed out.

Again.

"Oh… hi Taichou. How are you today?" She said cheerily, grinning slightly. Seeing Matsumoto made the young captain want to scream again, but kept his voice down, knowing full well some people were up. Specifically, a certain pink haired girl.

**xxx**

Everything began about only a short three years ago. 

A young girl had her back pressed against the grass, staring at the clouds that passed by. A paintbrush laid on her hands, as she waved it up against the blue sky, imaging the sky was a canvas.

A perfect canvas.

She frowned, her eyes gazing profoundly towards the sky. The clouds were moving awfully quickly all of a sudden. Wasn't it sunny earlier this morning?

A sudden chill brewed, making the young girl shiver. Wearing only a simple dress that was just above her knees, the fabric flowed across the wind, blowing back and forth. The girl placed both hands on her arms, hugging her body at an attempt to make herself feel warmer. As she began to walk up the green and grassy hill, another sudden blow of wind made her long hair fly everywhere, covering her vision for a few seconds.

The wind subsided.

She removed her hands and began to brush out the strands of her hair. It was a mess. She stood there, hands brushing through the fine strands until all knots came loose. She gave her body a quick shake before she heaved a relieved sigh.

She tucked the paintbrush that she held underneath the belt that she wore, hoping it would stay. After a short moment of fixing it so it felt comfortable against her body, she began to walk again, heading back to her lonely home.

Even though it was still quite early, and she didn't really want to return home yet. Hopefully, her mother wasn't home yet.

Hopefully.

In all the world, there was only one individual she was deathly afraid of. More so than the few bullies at school who mocked her slightly under average height, her unnaturally bright colored hair, to the china blue irises around her pupils. More so than person who had unexpectedly murdered her father and sister. More so than even…hollows.

Her mother was her Satan, her hellish devil.

Thusly, she had always hated her in a loving sort of way.

It was indeed wrong.

Every day, she would wake to see her breakfast thrown around messily, pots and pans all over the floor. On the table, would be ripped pieces of bills, taxes, and so on. At nine pm, her mother would return home, the car door slamming loudly, and her "grand" entrance, which usually was her calling out her daughters name as loudly and angrily as anyone possibly could.

Her footsteps would boom against the lamented floorboards, throwing down her purse, her face a total mess, the makeup smudging everywhere, making her look even scarier. The girl in response, would appear from upstairs, walking down carefully, making sure she wouldn't upset her mother by making her footsteps too loud and breaking the floorboards.

You know what next?

Her mother would grab her by the length of her hair, throw her painfully down onto the couch, scolding and yelling at her daughter saying things like, "you have no life!" and "It's all your fault!" or even going to the point of saying terrible sentences like "I wish you were never born!"

It was the scariest when her father and sister died. Out of the four of them, her mother loved them in this order: her father, her sister, herself, then her, the youngest of the family. She was despised, simply because she loved art and refused to take up law.

Her mother had big plans for her family, so none of them would become failures like her own siblings. Her sister took up medicine, trying her best to be the perfect doctor their mother wanted of them. But no, she was different. It wasn't that she didn't like stuff relating to the law. She simply loved art more than anything else.

Weren't mothers supposed to be supportive of their daughters with what their interests were?

Because of that, her mother thought she was a failure. Even after her father's, and sister's death, she still loved art. That was because she was able to express her feelings through it. Like one of the paintings, showing how she felt when they died, and when her mother became more violent.

She was beat up everyday.

She ate so little, it was almost as if her mother was purposely starving the young girl.

She had to cry herself to sleep almost everyday, except for occasional times her mother would be out on a business trip, or was working out really late.

To top it off, she didn't really have any friends. Because she was too different from everyone else.

Even the few friends she had were never close. Just a mutual trust. They would spend a day together every now and then, instead of all the other girls who ended up running to a café and gossiping everyday after school.

But, she had treasured them.

She was pretty, anyone could give her that much, but many people were also afraid to approach her because they were deathly afraid of her mother, more than being afraid of her. Many times, she would show up at school with black and blue bruises all over her body, bandages covering her, broken arms and legs and what not.

Once, she almost lost her left eye. She couldn't see for months.

Despite being treated so badly, she never spoke back to her mother. Not even once.

Because she was her mother, because she was the only family member left.

But then one day, on a really odd sort of day, she met another person. It was snowing, the white flakes pelting softly from the sky. It was a pretty sort of day, heck; it even brought a smile to her little bruised body.

Her mother wasn't home that day either. She escaped to a warmer climate, taking herself a long winter vacation, leaving her daughter to fend for herself. She left a little bit of mother, along with a messily written note, telling her not to spend money on anything trivial. For instance, art supplies. Nothing other than food, no snacks either.

Her mother thought she didn't deserve eating anything of any sort of luxury. Snacks were forbidden to go into her mouth. She rarely even ate chocolate. Few times she ever remembered was when it was White's Day, where a few brave students would confess their love towards her with chocolate despite her body maybe being in terrible condition.

Of course she would have to refuse. She couldn't dare imagine what would happen if her mother found out. These boys would back off, knowing why she refused, but still make her accept the chocolate and occasional flowers.

That was the most chocolate she would ever receive. Either that or a present from classmates.

That was it.

Now back to that odd day. Sure, it was snowing that day, and it was unbelievably cold, she thought it was a good day. Her mother wasn't home, she was free to go wherever, and she didn't have to worry about getting abused.

As cold as the day was, she enjoyed seeing the pretty flowers fall from the sky. She had always wanted to paint a snow scene one day, but never had the chance to. Her mother always prevented her from doing so. Either that, or it didn't turn out as well as she wanted it to.

But why was the day so odd?

There really wasn't anything truly odd about it. It was a simple winter day. No one was outside, as her neighborhood tended to remain quiet. The children were all inside, as did parents. They were spending quality time together.

That thought made her feel sad. She had no one to really call "family."

Her mother was too abusive to be called a mother.

That's also why the poor girl was so reserved all the time.

She spent most of that snowy day, walking through the white powder, examining it with every step she took. She wanted to know how she could paint it in a way that would make it real, or really bring out the beauty of such a cold object.

But as she continued to walk through the streets, she ended up on a snowy clearing. The snow was still fresh, as no footprints had been made yet. It seemed like such a shame to stomp on such a beautiful scene.

It's not like she wanted to stomp on it. It was because she saw something strange that didn't seem to fit into the scene.

Out from the edge of the hill, was a spiky splotch of something…white. It blended well into the snow, making the girl curious. Because she had a good eye for colour, she could distinguish that this…splotch… had a silvery shade into it, very similar to the snow, but different. No regular person could've seen the different.

As she walked closer to the thing, she took her hands out of her pockets, reaching towards it. She was really curious about what the thing was. Shutting her eyes, her hands lowered. She could feel the soft snow fall against her hand. First, she felt something oddly soft, but not cold either. It couldn't be snow. Nonetheless, her eyes remained closed. As her hand sank deeper, it landed on something soft, something…flesh like. She peeked open her china blue eyes to meet into the gaze of an annoyed looking boy, around her age also.

The first thing she noticed was the colour of his eyes. The colour was so clear, so gentle, so calm looking; it brought her a sense of easiness to her heart. They were the most beautiful shade of aqua she had ever encountered.

The only thing that frightened her was his expression.

"Who are you?" His voice expressed annoyance and slight sarcasm, slightly glaring at the boy. Was that white splotch…his hair colour?

"Oh…um, I'm sorry! I thought…your hair…I'm really sorry," the girl managed to stumble out, apologizing as quickly as she could. Her thoughts were enraptured with his eyes. She wished she could paint that colour one day onto a painting, if she could even mix that colour.

Now, looking at him more clearly, she could obviously see that he was cute. He had odd looks, just like her. His hair was white, his eyes were aqua, and there was the fact that he was sitting on the snow…wearing very few layers.

Wasn't he freezing?

She was standing there, wearing a large brown jacket and fuzzy pants, boots on her feet. Around her neck was a large white scarf that covered her mouth. It was kept there for two reasons: for warmth, and to hide the large bruise she received the day before her mother left for vacation. To top it off, he was sitting there calmly, fiddling with his cell-phone. He wasn't even shivering.

Suddenly, a heavy wind blew, a large amount of snow crashing against her face. She quickly turned around, so her face wouldn't be near the impact. Unfortunately for her, the large scarf that covered her blew away, falling near her in a large clump like object. She was just about to go after it before she realized something else. What about that boy? She decided to turn to the strange boy again, seeing if he was okay, and not piled under snow, or hurt by the snow even.

She peeked over the ledge once again.

Feeling her gaze on him, he turned around, staring back at her, preparing an annoyed response and to make her leave, his throat became dry as he caught onto something. It was there: a large black-bluish splotch that covered her right collarbone the size of a fist. His voice wouldn't speak.

He had never seen a bruise that large and dark coloured before.

As she realized what he was staring at, she quickly raised her arms, one hand fiddling with the collar to cover it up. She had been too curious about the boy and completely forgotten about the bruise that laid there.

He knew he should've said something. "Are…you okay? That bruise…" He tried to complete his sentence but didn't have the heart to. Judging by the pained expression on her face, he concluded that it brought bad memories to the young girl. He decided not to say anything else. After all, who was he to ask? He was a complete stranger.

"Erm… I… I'm sorry." She apologized again. He blinked. What was she apologizing for? Hearing her speak again, he realized how soft her voice was. The way her voice sounded, it sounded reserved, scared, and pained at the same time. It was the first time he ever encountered a person like this. Just as she was to turn around and run as quickly as she could back home, she felt warm skin touch her cold and bare hands. Turning around back, she was surprised by the expression left on his face.

"Can you tell me about what happened?"

That was only the beginning.

**xxx**

Hitsugaya sighed. He leaned against his work chair, closing his aqua eyes. In his head had the face of a girl, whom he had met three years ago. He remembered her well. He had felt a warm sense of attachment to her as he spoke to her that first time.

It was freezing cold, but towards him, nothing was cold. After all, he had Hyorinmaru.

When she told him about her family and the bruise she had, her tears were running down her cheeks continuously. She couldn't stop crying.

Although their meeting was odd and unexpected, it was the first time in his life he ever wanted to become friends with someone, instead of the other way around. He knew she had secrets in her heart that she wanted to tell the world, but couldn't bring herself to. She was simply too afraid.

The girl that he met had a fondness for painting. She had always loved to paint.

But when she was painting one day, no one knew that was going to be her last painting.

Just like he thought, just like she thought, they both knew who would end the young girl's life.

Her mother.

Hitsugaya opened his eyes ago, feeling a soft droplet of tears fall off his cheek. Recalling that memory was terrible. He couldn't do anything to save her either. He was stuck in his shinigami form, watching her from her window.

Next thing that happens, her mother storms into the room, holding a blunt object. She was dragged out of the room by her hair, the paintbrush that she held coated in snowy white paint, dropping onto the ground. She was crying out in pain. Her mother's face was furious, yelling and screaming at her child. As he passed through the walls of the house, his eyes widened in fear.

He swore to find her.

He swore to protect her.

No matter what.

Although it took about a year, he managed to find a young girl that resembled her. He could still remember that pounding feeling when he laid eyes onto that bubbly pink hair. Sure he wasn't sure if it was really her when he first saw it.

Her back was turned around, her pink hair tousled around messily. She looked frail and weak, too skinny for her own good. She was found in a decent district, not too bad, but not exactly great either. If only she was in the first district…then maybe she would've been healthier.

But, when she turned around, he was sure it was her.

The way her china blue eyes danced when her own eyes laid onto his own. For a second, he thought she still remembered him.

You know what the first thing she said to him was?

"Your eyes are pretty."

She spoke so silently, he almost didn't hear her. But the way she said it, so timidly, so hesitantly, he knew at that moment that she knew nothing of the poor boy. There was nothing he could do about it if it came to that.

Despite being hurt, he took her anyways. He had a promise to keep, and he was going to keep it even if it killed him. She's been through so much worse, it was as if she was dying everyday when she was alive. At first, he tried to hide her. But then one day…everything changed.

She had a zanpakuto… one that suddenly appeared out of nowhere in an instant.

He knew that he no longer needed to hide the young girl, gave her special training, and she was soon placed in the tenth division quickly. No one really questioned it, as they all knew she was unusually strong for her age. Plus, she had a high rank before too…before she began to spend all her time in her room…painting again.

Hitsugaya knew he couldn't do anything about her ditching her duties to paint.

He couldn't take away her only joy, her life.

It had already been taken away by her mother, and he wasn't about to destroy her happiness either. That would make him lower than her mother, especially since he had understood her.

On multiple occasions, he had begged her if she remembered him in anyway possible. Although he knew it was impossible, he kept him fingers crossed. After they met, he spent all his breaks, all his day's off, and every visit to Karakura town with her, to comfort her, to help her, and to console her if she ever needed the help.

He couldn't do anything about her mother, but still…he tried his best. He was there for her when she needed him most.

Why?

Why would someone normally as cold as him care about a petty human?

The answer was simple.

He thought he understood her. He knew the pain of having no one around. He knew the pain of having others hate you with everything they had.

When he saw that terrible bruise…as well as the many that followed soon later, it made him always cringe. Didn't her mother understand that she was going too far? How can one person hate their own child so much to beat them up to such a point every day, especially since she was so fragile, and a female in general?

How could she even put up with this all the time?

Didn't it hurt?

He loved her…that much was obvious, even to himself. Normally he would be the one to deny things like love, but no matter how he refused to think so, the thought always came back. He wanted to protect her, to make sure she would never be hurt to that point again.

If only she remembered… then maybe…maybe she'll remember what she told him the day before she died.

If only she remembered… then maybe… he could tell her.

If only she remembered…

**xxx**

Kiseki reached the paintbrush against the white canvas carefully, staring at it long and hard. The aqua colour seemed to pop against the snowy white, making the young girl furrow her eyebrows.

Why was she painting the colour aqua?

The snow's shadow was a pale blue, not a bright aqua.

The colour looked exactly like her captain's eye colour. But…why? Why would an image of his annoyed face appear in her mind when she was painting the snow? Why would her hand unconsciously paint an aqua colour that was similar to his eyes?

It made her question about everything.

Sure he kidnapped her and saved her from hunger, but what was their connection?

He had asked her if she remembered him so many times, but she never understood what he meant.

Who was Hitsugaya Toshiro really?

She sighed and gave up. Putting down her paintbrush, she narrowed her eyes at the now ruined canvas she spent so hard to keep white. Looks like she was going to have to start over.

Sighing again, she decided to go outside again and stare at the snow for another while. Maybe it would give her some ideas. Reaching into her closet, she grabbed a warm white scarf and tied it around her neck. She knew it was pretty cold outside, and she needed to keep herself from catching a cold. She hated being sick, other than not being allowed to paint.

It was late at night…even later now.

She tried to open her door as slowly and as quietly as possible, hoping that her captain especially, wouldn't find out that she was still up this late at night. This was the latest she ever stayed up.

Walking across the hall, her eyes kept darting towards the white snow. Just looking at her made her want to know more and more why she was so curious about her captain. What connection did they have? And why would the snow trigger something like that?

She shook her head, blinked her eyes over and over. She should probably forget about it for now.

Kiseki took a deep breath, lifted the bottom of her shihakushō and stepped onto the fresh white snow once again. The white powder was still pelting from the sky. It left a deep footprint, about a decimeter or two. She crouched down, tracing circles into the snow, creating some kind of abstract picture. Her fingers turned purple as they continued to trace the circles, but she decided to ignore the freezing cold feeling. Her eyes kept locked onto the snow, completely ignoring everything else around her.

A chill brewed in the wind, knocking the frail girl backwards into the snow, her butt clashing against the ground. The scarf she wore fell down beside in a large clump, making her stare.

Why did this seem so familiar?

She stretched out towards her fallen scarf, placing her hands across the soft wool, feeling it against her fingertips.

It was odd...why...was it familiar?

Why?

Grabbing the fallen scarf, bits of the soft snow stuck to it, making the girl frown. She can't wear it if it was going to be like that. She sighed a few times, brushed the snow off with her hand and proceeded to wrap around her neck. Well...it wasn't that bad yet. Still wearable...barely. Besides, it was her favorite scarf.

She got up from her spot and took a look over at the small garden area of the tenth division. It was a nice place. It had a frozen pond, trees decorated with white powder, and a small hill to top it off. Wait... a hill?

Kiseki frowned again and began to pace herself towards the tiny hill. Peeking over it, she jumped suddenly, surprised at what she caught eyes onto. It was a bunny, a snow white one. It was odd too, it had...green eyes. Weren't most bunnies supposed to have the red albino eyes, or have those blackish brown beady looking ones? However, the bunny looked so soft and so cute, she couldn't resist but climb down, being careful not to startle the poor thing and stretch out her hand.

The bunny stared at the girl, leaning it's small head towards her hand, sniffing it. After a few seconds, it seemed to relax slightly, as if it was allowing Kiseki to pet the small animal. She smiled. The fur was so soft... and so warm. It was really cute.

The bunny turned its head and stared back at the pink-haired girl making her blink.

Green eyes...

...Aqua eyes?

**xxx**

Hitsugaya sighed. He had just finished returning from handing in all the paperwork that he finished the previous night, as well as unfortunately...receiving another stack. If only Matsumoto was there to help...then he wouldn't always have to pull an all-nighter. He frowned and furrowed his eyebrows, glaring at his office door.

Why wasn't anyone there when he actually needed the help?

God...his division was useless. He had never actually realized it till now.

'Kicking' his door open, the door slammed against the back wall, making the young captain flinch. Maybe he shouldn't have kicked it so hard after all. His steps were slow as he continued to walk towards his desk, dependent on memory as the stack of papers were simply too high for a person of his height to see past.

He growled, irritated.

Curse his shortness.

Well, at least he wasn't the only short person around. There was another, one of the lower seated officers, Kiseki Touya. She was a quiet person, and overall, kind to say in the least. She had an odd affection for art, but the captain had grown feelings for her. Mostly because he knew her, and the pain she hid in her solemn little heart.

He thrusted his large stack of papers down onto his desk with a thud. His back really hurt. Stretching, his yawned quickly, completely wiped out. Curse that Matsumoto again for making him work. He's had too many sleepless nights for his own good.

He was just about to sit down onto his work chair, planning to start on that large stack of papers, when he eyes caught onto something, something distinctly beautiful. It was a large piece of canvas, wrapped around with a gold and elegant frame. The first thing he noticed was the array of colours plastered over the hard fabric. He put his hand down, running his hands across the dry paint, feeling the occasional bumps.

It was a painting of the snow, a beautiful snow field, little snowflakes pelting from the sky.

But even still, the thing that caught his eye the most was the colours used... the snow's shadows varied from a deep aqua, to a light turquoise, or to a pale greyish blue.

Although he had an idea as to who painted it, he was still curious. Maybe...it wasn't her.

He lifted the canvas by the golden frame, lifting it up under the light. The painting seemed to glimmer over the light of his office. It was truly... a beautiful picture. Already, he grew fond of it.

Maybe its the snow.

Maybe it was a premonition, but he loved it.

Just as he cleared it off his desk, he noticed another thing on his wood desk. It was piece of paper, a small one at best. He took it and held it in his small hands, reading it mentally.

_Hitsugaya-Taichou_

_This is what you remind me of. This is what I think of you._

_-Kiseki_

It was a simple letter, that much was obvious. He furrowed his brows and turned around to stare at the painting curiously. At least he was right about the sender of the painting. But, what did she mean about "This is what I think of you?"

He sighed and slumped down into his chair and began to think.

There were two things he knew and understood:

She loved to paint

And she loved the snow

* * *

:3

And there we go~ This is the end of my Hitsugaya Toshiro Oneshot.

I'm not uber proud of it or anything, and I find it particularly long and all, but oh well. I wanted to get it out of my computer and just publish it, as crappy as it is. It was taking up too much room D8

I didn't even spell-check, fix or anything. So I'm sorry if you find a couple of mistakes Dx

I hope you enjoyed it, though... never mind!

Thanks for reading :3


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